


Four Times Castiel Watches Dean (and One Time Dean Watches Back)

by ThreeSidedOrchid



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, M/M, implied sam/OFC, unbetaed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-02
Updated: 2014-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-07 03:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThreeSidedOrchid/pseuds/ThreeSidedOrchid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Does what it says on the tin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Times Castiel Watches Dean (and One Time Dean Watches Back)

**Author's Note:**

> I asked for prompts and Tripperfunster gave me:   
>  I would LOVE some Dean/Castiel.  
> Something along the lines of: Cas observing the odd human being that is Dean.  
> __
> 
> I'd hoped to write something funny, what came out was fluffy.

**Dean lies the most in bars**

Castiel does not like lying. Even justified lies weigh his tongue down with their wrongness. Watching Dean in the bar repulses him. Dean smiles and intentionally misses a shot, telling the men he hasn't played pool since forever. He buys a woman a drink with their money later, tells her he's in sales. Amidst all the clanking of glasses and voices raised, the sound of Dean's lies grate against Castiel's ears.   
It's months later that Castiel catches the shadow behind Dean's eyes as he proclaims himself a liar and realizes they do not sit so lightly on his tongue either.

 

**Magic Fingers**

Standing unobserved at the foot of the bed, Castiel watches the steady rise and fall of Dean's chest with each breath. Dean sleeps in every position. Sometimes, he curls up so small and tight that Castiel could fit his vessel's body around the curve of him and yet leave room to spare on the bed. Nights like this, when Dean uses the _Magic Fingers_ are better. Then, the rattle and hum of the mechanism, the shivering vibration, send him into sleep splayed out, loose-limbed and open. Dean's lips move in sleep, sounding out words or prayers Castiel can't follow. 

 

**Dean has five recurring dreams, three of them are nightmares.**

Castiel hovers, just beyond Dean's sight behind the heavy velvet curtains. Remaining unobserved in dreams is difficult, and impolite, and Castiel does not care. His view of Dean flickers, interrupted by the movement of the dancers. Under the single spotlight, their bodies are golden, flawless. It is harder to see Dean, sitting beyond them in the shadows. Dean watches the women, enraptured as they sway and smile. They kiss, their hands drifting over each other in caresses much softer than the inherent animosity their costumes imply. Dean sits forward, and smiles up at them, and never reaches out to touch. 

 

**Sometimes, when Sam isn't around, Dean uses a straight razor.**

In the yellow-tinged light of another motel bathroom Dean lays out razor, soap, brush, cup. He runs his hand below the line of them in a slow, contemplative drag across cheap counter top. His feet flex and relax against the grimy linoleum as he begins. It's never wholly silent. Beyond the rush of water and soft whisk of the brush lathering, there are always sounds from the outside world leaking in through too-thin walls. Still, watching from the doorway, Castiel cannot help thinking that Dean finds some measure of peace, here, in each slow drag of the razor over skin.

 

**Dean doesn't mind him watching**

Paused in the hallway, beer hanging half-forgotten in his hand, Dean's gaze fixes on the den. He turns, leaning against the wall and lifting the bottle for a drink. 

Castiel hears Sam and Mary in the den, voices softened in affection. For once, he thinks he understands. He reaches out, unthinkingly ghosting fingers over Dean's skin. 

Dean inhales sharply. His eyes search the dark before focusing straight ahead, as if he can see Castiel, though it's impossible. 

“Cas?” He breathes.

Drifting closer, Castiel leans forward, touching their lips together with the barest brush. Dean trembles before him, whispers “Stay.”


End file.
